The Finer Things
by Bill Hiers
Summary: A day in the life of U.A.C. staffer Renfield Billings. WARNING! Contains spoilers for the Web Series and some homosexual situations!
1. Renfield's Worries

Renfield Billings was worried. More than worried, he was terrified! As he sulked on his office in the U.A.C., a stack of paperwork sat on his desk, unfinished. He couldn't concentrate on work now. Dozens of questions were running through his mind, but the most pertinent was whether or not Fritz Warner suspected him.

Chairman Sirius Dogstar was dead. Assassinated by a toad agent. The recently re-elected Fritz Warner had replaced him, and one of Fritz's first orders of business had been to disband to liaison division Dogstar pioneered, and which, until its demise, Renfield worked for, acting as Dogstar's connection to the crew of the Righteous Indignation.

Strangely, Fritz had summoned Renfield personally to his office and offered him a position on his private staff. What was unusual about this was that, as far as he knew, Renfield was the only one of the ex-liaisons Fritz was making this offer to. Fritz claimed his "extracurricular activities," that is, his various side errands for Dogstar, had impressed him. He said Renfield had good work ethic and he needed someone like him on his staff.

Renfield would've bought that completely if only he hadn't been the only one offered such a position from amongst the former liaisons! He felt... singled out. And he didn't like it. Consequently, the nagging thought squirming inside him now was that Fritz suspected his dirty secret and wanted him on his personal staff so he could keep an eye on him.

"He has to be on to me!" Renfield said quietly to himself. "Why me? Why only me?"

He leaned against his desk. The handsome young Warrenian hare was not what he appeared to be. He wasn't from Warren, and he wasn't even a hare, but the groundbreaking scientific techniques of Professor Glutgrave had seen to it that, to all outward appearances, the toad spy Zaysen was just another hare working dilligently at the U.A.C.

He'd been ferreting information to his fellow toads who had dug in following the mammals' retaking of Genus, but he'd been in place as a double agent for longer than even that, having been planted on the post-invasion Warren with a false past that led back to a destroyed town. It was very nearly perfect. But now, it seemed, the sly Chairman Warner was seeing through his disguise.

His stomach lurched as he thought of Drollard, the other toad spy altered by Professor Glutgrave, the one who murdered Dogstar. Whereas Zaysen had been made to resemble a generic hare who never actually existed, Glutgrave had been tasked with turning Drollard into a perfect copy of Bucky O'Hare so he could frame O'Hare for Dogstar's murder. And now Drollard was dead.

Nevermind that Renfield had genuinely liked Dogstar, old blowhard that he was, and venomously held it against his fellow toads for killing him, it was Drollard's fate that weighed on him. It hadn't been officially stated in public, but Renfield knew through his closeness to Fritz that Drollard had been killed not long after his interrogation by a lethal injection. It made Renfield shiver, and again the thought of Fritz suspecting him resurfaced. Did Fritz tell him this in order to try and scare him into turning himself in?

Ironic, considering that Renfield had been enjoying his life as a hare so far. For this and other reasons, he'd been seriously considering cutting his ties with the toads entirely and just living as a hare for the rest of his life. Only two things were stopping him. One, the worry of what the toads would do to him, and now, two, what the mammals would do!

He went to a mirror and stared at his reflection. He had light green fur and short brown hair parted down the middle, and watery gray eyes that made him difficult to read. He'd practiced many facial expressions in front of this mirror, but now, it wasn't just second nature, it seemed like the real him. He had honestly forgotten what he looked like before the procedure.

Walking back to the desk, Renfield practically collapsed into his chair. If he did turn himself in, what would the mammals do to him? Inject him, too, and kill him? Unconsciously, he rubbed his arm and thought of the needle going in, and felt ill.

"Why?" he asked aloud to no one. "Why did they kill Drollard?"

He looked at the papers in front of him and twirled a pen in his nimble fingers. Suddenly, the toad communicator sitting on his desk beeped. Sergeant Krug was calling. Probably to ask why he hadn't contacted him in a whole week. He looked over at it, absently wondering what it was doing sitting out in the open like this instead of hidden away in a drawer. In his worry, he was getting careless. He fought back tears.

"Will the ammals kill me too, like Drollard, when they find out? Will the toads? Will I beg when it happens, or will I have enough self-respect to just...?"

He trailed off into silence, quaking. After a moment, he flung the pen across the room. His communicator continued to beep insistently. Finally he just picked it up and sent it flying after the pen. He didn't want to deal with Krug. Or any toad. Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his hands and began to sob hysterically.

"Why did I ever take this assignment?" he bawled.

There was a knock at the door. Instinct kicked in. An actor's instinct. Renfield sat up, his mood changing immediately. Almost automatically, the false hare transformed into the very picture of calm and collected. Rising, he went and picked up the communicator and slid it into his jacket pocket.

"Come in," he said.

Gilly Stephenson opened the door and poked his head in. Great, Renfield though. He didn't much like Gilly. The short gopher had been his co-worker and office neighbor ever since Renfield came to work in the main U.A.C. offices, and he seemed intent on inserting himself into every aspect of Renfield's life. Renfield thought it was because Gilly noticed what others did not: the fact he didn't seem to have a life outside of the office. He figured Gilly was just curious and trying to learn more about his fellow employee, and he was pleasant enough, but Renfield still didn't like how he snooped.

"Hiya, Ren," Gilly said. "Sorry if I'm disturbing you. Just was wondering if you weren't too busy to help me with some file transporting I gotta do before you head out for lunch."

Renfield grumped. Lunch! He'd forgotten completely about food! Well, Gilly was good for one thing at least: making sure his co-worker ate! Of course, his lunch was currently in several jars locked away in his bottom desk drawer. He would have to eat later. For now, though, he had duties to attend to. Renfield managed a cheerful smile.

"Sure!"

He rose and followed Gilly out of the office. He pulled the door shut and removed the lamenated ID card off of his lapel, and held it against the card-reader next to the doorframe. There was a beep and a click. Locked. Turning, he clipped the ID card back to his lapel and noticed Gilly was staring at him. The gopher clearly was disappointed that he'd locked the door. It meant he couldn't snoop while Renfield was gone.

"Just following procedure, good buddy," Renfield said.

He followed Gilly into the office across the hall. Gilly always tended to keep his door open. And in fact most of the employees did. Even though locking their offices even when they were in them was standard procedure, few people actually did it and the policy had been poorly enforced under Dogstar. Renfield reasoned this would changed now that Fritz was in charge again. But little would change for him in that regard. For obvious reasons, Renfield was more dilligent about locking his office than most. His apartment was similarly secured all of the time.

"Just grab an armful and come with me," Gilly said, gesturing to two large stacks of files on his desk. 


	2. Dawson

A short time later, Renfield and Gilly walked down the hall toward the U.A.C.'s record department in another part of the building, their arms loaded. Renfield was cradling a large stack of papers, whilst Gilly had a big cardboard box. They took some stairs and as they reached the bottom and rounded a corner, they ran right into a young hare, himself carrying an armload of papers, who bumped right into them. With a grunt, the stouter Gilly stumbled but retained his footing. Renfield and the other hare, however, both fell down, spilling papers everywhere.

"Watch it!" Renfield snapped, initially irritated. But then he realized who it was he'd just smashed into and his voice softened. "Dawson!"

The young hare was Dawson Mackenzie. He laughed and stood, taking the accident well. He offered a hand, which Renfield took, and Dawson helped him to his feet.

"Sorry about that, Renfield," he apologized.

He was a young brown hare with blue eyes and reddish-brown hair, thin but solidly built and athletic. He and Renfield had first met on a tram ride early one morning and struck up a conversation. They'd seen each other off and on since then, but not often since they worked in different parts of the building.

"It's quite all right," Renfield assured him. "And what, may I ask, is the big rush?"

"I was taking these up to the top floor," Dawson replied, gesturing down at the mess. He looked up and smiled a little. "They're actually supposed to go on your desk, as a matter of fact."

Renfield felt his heart flutter, his worried about Fritz, Krug and the toads and everything momentarily seeming to disappear. He even forgot about Gilly for the moment and just stared at Dawson, smiling. Renfield liked him a lot. More than a lot. And, judging by the way Dawson tended to look at him, the feeling was mutual.

"There are so many forms, and so many more coming. I can't wait for this day to end!" Dawson said, as he bent and began to separate his papers from Renfield's.

Renfield stooped down and began to assist him. Working together, they soon had their respective paperwork separated. As they arranged them into neat little piles, Renfield pondered working up the courage to ask Dawson out. Just for a drink or something for now. He wasn't even sure his fascination with the hare went beyond simple curiosity just yet. He was a toad, after all. He shouldn't be attracted to a mammal! And yet here he was, butterflies in his tummy, trying to stutter out an invitation to a date.

Dawson beat him to it. Arranging the papers into a neater stack before picking them up and standing erect again, he said, "I would do anything to get out of this for a little while, if you catch my meaning."

Renfield swallowed and grinned. Actually grinned! Of course, Dawson could just be innocently suggesting a trip to some bar or restaurant, the latter of which Renfield would of course have to decline, and Renfield wasn't even sure of Dawson was even gay, but something in what the brown hare said clicked with him, and he nodded.

"Well, I think that can be arranged," he said. "It's almost lunchtime, anyway."

Remembering Gilly, Stephenson turned and looked at the gopher, who was staring at the two hares in confusion. Apparently, he either didn't have gaydar or it was malfunctioning. Renfield put his stack of papers on top of the box Gilly was holding, then took the files from Dawson and put those on top of them, leaving Gilly holding the slightly wobbly stack in his arms.

"Stephenson can handle things, can't you, Stephenson?" asked Renfield, hopeful.

He felt a little guilty for dumping everything on Gilly who despite his nosiness had never been anything other than a good co-worker to him, but he didn't want to pass up this opportunity to spend some quality time with this young hare who fascinated him so.

"Um, sure," said Gilly, a little uncertain.

"Great!" said Renfield.

He unclipped the ID card from his lapel and handed it to Gilly, who took it a little awkwardly. If Gilly was going to get into his office to put the papers Dawson was supposed to deliver in there, he'd need the card.

The drawer containing the only incriminating evidence of who and what Renfield actually was was in a drawed locked with an actual key which only Renfield had. Renfield didn't think Gilly could pick the lock. If he even suspected him at all the way Fritz seemed to. He was probably just wondering why Renfield was so private. Maybe the revelation that his co-worker was gay would be the explanation Gilly was looking for, and perhaps this gesture of trust would end Gilly's snoopiness, and after finding nothing unusual in Renfield's office, his curiosity would finally be satisfied.

Of course, he had no way of knowing any of this for certain, but at the moment, he was more concerned with getting to know Dawson Mackenzie better. As Gilly struggled to balance the stack of paperwork wobbling on top of the box in his arms, Renfield put his hand on Dawson's shoulder and began escorting the hare off down the hall. Gilly watched them go.

"Just put the files we were carrying down here in storage, then stick the ones Mackenzie had on my desk for me," Renfield said over his shoulder. "I owe you one, buddy. Just remember to lock up again after you're done, okay?"

"Uh, okay."

Renfield and Dawson took the stares, Renfield's heart thudding rapidly in his chest. Dawson was in the lead and Renfield coming up behind him couldn't help but stare at the hare's butt in his tight dress slacks. He again wondered what it was about Dawson that made him, a toad, find him so attractive, and whether or not Dawson was even gay.

"So, where do you want to eat?" Dawson asked.

"No, no food," said Renfield with a chuckle. "This may sound a little weird, but I usually eat alone."

"Sensitive stomach?" Dawson asked.

Renfield nodded and lied, "Eating by myself aids my digestion." He gave his stomach a slap for emphasis.

Dawson laughed. "All right, then, a drink, then. How about this great place I know, called the Briar Patch?"

Renfield almost fell backwards in surprise, gripping the handrail. The Briar Patch was one of the hottest gay night spots on all of Genus. It seemed his hope had paid off, and that Dawson was indeed gay, or at least bisexual. This meant there was a chance for something more than friendship to exist between them, after all.

Even as he grinned crookedly and tried to manage a reply, Dawson, who seemed to sense Renfield's answer intuitively, seized him by the arm and dragged him along with him. 


	3. The Briar Patch

The Briar Patch was, rather surprisingly, in a quite upscale district of Genus' largest city, only a four minute drive from U.A.C. Headquarters. This surprised Renfield. The Toad Homeworld had a gay subculture, but it was buried and not practiced openly the way the mammals here on Genus did.

The interior of the Briar Patch was a swirling, neon nightmare that made Renfield dizzy, as numerous male mammals from all walks of life swayed trancelike to throbbing music on a multicolored dance floor, bathed in spinning strobe lights. Others stood around, talking, sharing drinks, watching scantily-clad male dancers wearing next to nothing gyrating on floor-to-ceiling metal poles.

Upon entering, Renfield had made it plain to his friend that he was intimated by the festive nature and open celebreating of homosexuality of the club, and so, as opposed to venturing out onto the dance floor, the pair had elected to remain over by the neon-ringed bar. Dawson ordered drinks for them.

"Two zombies," he said to the bartender. Renfield, who thought a zombie was an undead walking corpse, blinked his gray eyes at Dawson questioningly. Dawson chuckled and reassured him, "It's a drink. You'll like it."

The bartender, a large bulge wearing a mesh muscle shirt and tight leather shorts which made Renfield blush and need to loosen his shirt collar a little, returned after a moment with two tall glasses filled with a glowing blue liquid. Dawson immediately and without thought began to guzzle his. Renfield frowned and inspected his own. He wasn't terribly keen on putting some such a bright shade of blue into himself, but then shrugged and took a sip. He gagged.

"Agh," he cried, coughing.

"What's wrong?" asked Dawson worriedly. "Does it taste bad?"

Renfield shook his head. "No, no, it's really good. Just very strong!"

Dawson laughed and patted Renfield on the back as Renfield shrugged and swallowed the rest of the "zombie" in a few large, chugging gulps, Dawson rubbing his back gently as he did so. As he overcame the rush of guzzling the entire thing so quickly and set the empty glass down, he noticed that the brown hare was gazing at him with lidded eyes.

"Y'know, I still don't know know that much about you," he said. He set his own half-finished zombie aside and leaned against the counter, placing his hand on Renfield's.

Renfield licked his lips nervously. All this was covered, of course. The toads had thought up a fairly consistent, but suitably vague, background for his identity after he had been sent to Warren to begin his undercover mission. That story included the fact all his friends and relatives were killed in the destruction of his hometown when the toads took over Warren the first time.

But Renfield didn't want to lie to Dawson like that. He decided it would be best, for the time being, to give him something that part of the truth and part of the lie.

"Well, if you really must know, I come from a fairly large family."

"Big surprise there!" Dawson said with a chuckle.

Renfield mentally kicked himself, having momentarily forgotten that hares tended to have large amounts of children. Like toads, he realized with some irony. They weren't as different as either species liked to pretend. Thinking about this fact made Renfield realize that he, or, at least, Zaysen, had never really known his parents. He'd seen them a lot growing up, of course, but as he'd reached adulthood, his contact with them eventually tapered off. He hadn't seen his mother since he left home, and had seen his father exactly three times since then, and they'd only had anything nice to say to one another on one of those occasions.

"I never really got to know my parents," said Renfield morosely. "I was one of, well, a lot of children, so I never really garnered much of their attention to begin with. My, uh, chosen walk of life didn't help."

He wasn't sure if he meant his sexuality or his choice to become an actor. Both had made his father angry. Despite their over-reliance on Toad TV, toad parents in today's toad culture all wanted their children to grow up to become heroic Storm Toads. His dad was very disappointed when told he didn't want to be a Storm Toad. The one nice thing his father had ever said to him had been when he learned Zaysen was going to become a spy for the Empire and finally, as his father put it, be of some use to Komplex.

And as for being gay, well, in a society that valued reproduction above any real love or familial connections, the decision to pursue a course that wouldn't result in any tadpoles was something Zaysen's father refused to accept. Whether his mother shared either sentiment, he couldn't say. He frowned and stared into his empty glass.

"Don't worry," said Dawson, his voice overflowing with sympathy for his co-worker. "My parents didn't really approve of where my lifestyle was headed, either, so I totally know where you're coming from. But who cares?"

He smiled and finished the rest of his zombie, then ordered them a second round of drinks, which the hunky bartender brought over and set down. Dawson sipped his but Renfield left his untouched, his empty one still in hand.

"We're here together and that's all that matters right now," Dawson added.

Beside him, Dawson's hand left Renfield's and slid up his arm to stroke it. Renfield looked at him, his dull gray eyes meeting Dawson's vibrant blue ones. It seemed that they'd just taken their next step towards becoming more than simply friends, something which both excited and terrified Renfield.

"Fortunately," Dawson continued, "that attitude isn't common here on Genus. This place is proof of that."

"Well," Renfield said, setting the empty glass aside but still not picking up his full one. He'd had enough to drink for one afternoon. "The problem wasn't so much being gay itself, really. My father just hated the fact I'd never have a whole batch of kids to add to the, uh, hare workforce."

Dawson eyed him. "Workforce" was an unusual choice, Renfield realized, and was scared by how close he'd come to saying "toad workforce." He was clumsy when he was in love. He was going to have to choose his words a little more carefully from now on. Fortunately, Dawson seemed to let the odd word choice pass and so he continued.

"That's why I was sent to Genus," he said, irritated. "I never wanted to come here in the first place. I would've rather stayed home."

"Well, all the same, I'm glad you did come," Dawson said, "because it means I got to meet you."

Renfield managed a small smile, and then noticed the brown hare was leaning towards him. At first he reflexively leaned back, which made Dawson blink and start to draw back, looking hurt, but then Renfield got the idea and his small smile became a big one, and a moment later his lips were against Dawson's. They kissed softly for a few seconds before their private little moment was interrupted. One of the dancers, a lion, sashayed across the bartop to the catcalls and hollers of the clubgoers, and one of his feet knocked over Renfield's untouched drink, startling him and Dawson out of their kiss.

Renfield was initially furious, but calmed after seeing how apologetic the dancer was. "Whoops!" he cried. "Uh, sorry about that!"

"No worries, dude," Dawson reassured him, speaking for both himself and Renfield. "We were just on our way out."

Crud, the time! Renfield looked over at a clock over on the wall and saw that they were quite a bit late coming back from lunch. Indeed, it was time they left. He did the courtesy of paying for their drinks, then watched as the more outgoing and adventurous Dawson further reassured the lion who'd knocked their drinks over by taking out a simolean and beckoning him over, and then slipping the coin down the front of his skimpy neon underwear.

"Thanks!" the lion said, and then swayed off on his way.

After that, Renfield and Dawson exited the noisy club. On the way out, Renfield saw a very familiar-looking derelict hare named Jimmy elsewhere in the club. Jimmy was a young hare who'd done "favors" for the starved Renfield in the past. For the moment, he ignored him.

Dawson slipped his arm around Renfield's and laid his head against the green hare's shoulder. It was a very bold move, but Renfield didn't mind. He needed this. Needed Dawson. Needed emotional comfort to suppress the conflicting loyalties raging inside him. Outside, the two shared a hug, with Renfield clutching Dawson a little too tightly, he realized, but Dawson made no complaint. Finally, Renfield let go and pulled away.

"Sorry," said Renfield. "It's just..." He trailed off. "I had a really great time. I've been somewhat depressed lately, and this little outing... well, you, really, more than anything, really cheered me up."

Dawson smirked and stood with his hands on his hips. "Glad to be a positive influence on someone's life." Turning, he started off down the sidewalk, away from the Briar Patch. "Come on, let's go. We're already late and we should get back before Morgenstern sends out a search party after me."

Jay Morgenstern was the head of the U.A.C.'s file and record department and consequently Dawson's boss. He had a reputation as being a bit of a taskmaster who didn't tolerate laziness, and Renfield hoped, as he trotted off to catch up to Dawson, that Morgenstern wouldn't mind too much that his employee was a bit late. 


	4. Out of Options

Returning to U.A.C. Headquarters, Renfield and Dawson went their separate ways after a brief kiss and exchange of mutual sweet-nothings in the lobby, which earned them a few looks. The latter went back to the file and record department before Morgenstern had a coniption, and the former returned to his own office. On the way, he passed Gilly Stephenson and another co-worker, a female hare named Vernita Lapis, discussing something.

"Is it really necessary?" he heard Vernita say.

"Chairman's orders," Gilly responded, and then looked at Renfield. "Oh, Ren, you ought to hear this!"

Stopping, Renfield said, "What is it?"

"Warner's ordered mandatory blood tests for all UAC employees," the gopher said. "No ifs, ands or buts." He snorted derisively. "I guess he wants to make sure we aren't all toads."

Renfield felt cold terror sweep over him. Blood tests? He remembered the capture and execution of Drollard. He swallowed, making an audible gulping sound which attracted the attention of his two co-workers. They stared at him worriedly.

"Are you all right?" asked Vernita, concerned. She gingerly placed her hand on his arm.

"I'm fine," Renfield replied dimly.

But he was anything but fine. He was sweating. He glanced down at the female hare's hand and stared at it, and then up at Vernita herself. Warm sympathy flowed from her face. Then his gazed shifted to Gilly, who was glaring at him in a way Renfield was having difficulty figuring out. He seemed to read accusation in the gopher's eyes.

"Too many drinks at the Briar Patch," Gilly said. But his voice was monotone, as if he didn't really believe this was the reason for the green hare's sudden queasiness. "That's all."

"The Briar Patch?" Vernita said, and took her hand off of Renfield's arm. She looked embarassed. Somewhere in his terror-adled mind, Renfield figured she'd had a crush on him and was disappointed to learn he'd gone to a nearby gay club.

"Yeah," said Gilly. "Him and Dawson Mackenzie from file and records." He smirked a little bit as he noticed Vernita's disappointment, but it faded quickly. Changing the subject, he added, "Look, none of us have anything to worry about. We're all mammals. So Chairman Warner thinks there's a second toad spy out ther disguised as a mammal. So what? It's not like it's any of us, right, Renfield?"

He fixed his gaze on Renfield again and Renfield felt himself wither under that intense look. He knew!

Clearing his throat and straightening himself up to stand straighter, determined to save face before that accusing stare, Renfield said, "Right, absolutely. But it's the principle of the thing! We've all been loyal U.A.C. employees for years!"

"It's insulting!" insisted Vernita, crossing her arms and looking indignant. "To think anyone would think I was a toad in disguise! Disgusting!"

"When?" Renfield asked, turning to Gilly. He needed to know when the tests were to be conducted, so he could plan ahead. For what, exactly, he wasn't certain.

"Huh?" the gopher said, seemingly caught off guard.

"The blood tests. When are they?"

"Oh!" said Gilly. "Uh, tomorrow. We're all supposed to go to the nurse's station and give blood. The entire building, too! Every single employee!"

Renfield sighed, pretending to look insulted and exasperated as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Anyway, you're right, Stephenson," he said, speaking quickly, eager to get away from them, "I guess I had a little too much to drink at the club. I need to, uh, go and take a load off. I'm sure I'll feel better soon. Seeya."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and continued off down the hall as fast as he could without actually running. He heard them continue talking over his shoulder. About him.

"The Briar Patch?" he heard Vernita ask again. She sounded surprised. "I had no idea Renfield was gay!"

"I noticed it the first time he and Dawson set eyes on each other," he heard Gilly say.

As he got to his office door, their voices faded away. Grabbing his ID card off his lapel, he ran it through the card reader and flung the door open even as the device beeped its acknowledgement of Renfield's access. Quickly, he slammed it and leaned against it, breathing hard, sweating. His good mood from his trip to the Briar Patch with Dawson was gone now.

Just as he'd feared, Fritz was on to him. Why else would he order these blood tests? And even if Fritz didn't know, then the tests would still allow him to narrow the list of suspects down. Renfield admittedly was ignorant of his own current body chemistry. He'd never cut himself so he wasn't sure whether or not his blood was still green. He didn't know how much toad remained just beneath the surface. But if he still needed to consume insects to nourish himself the way an ordinary toad did, there was enough left for a doctor to deduce his true species from something as simple as a blood test.

Pushing away from the door he walked over to his desk. He could feel the walls closing in on him. He was trapped. His options were becoming increasingly limited. What was he to do? Come forward and hope his cooperation would buy him a reprieve from sharing Drollard's fate? Or perhaps reconnect with Krug? With his hope of leaving his old life as Zaysen behind, should he resume helping his fellow toads? He palmed his face, uncertain of just who his friends were. Or his enemies. 


	5. Renfield's Plan

Collapsing into his chair, Renfield removed the toad communicator from his pocket and set it on the desk in front of him. He stared at it. It was inert for the moment. For once, Sergeant Krug weren't trying to contact him. Had he given up? Should he contact Krug? With his options running out, it was beginning to seem like his fellow toads were his best bet, especially considering what had been done to Drollard. And yet, he had grown the like the mammals he interacted with daily, to see the Aniverse from a completely different viewpoint and see his own people for the warmongering fascists they were. The last thing he wanted to do was to help the likes of them take over Genus again.

And yet, with his own life at stake, as he was certain it was, assisting the likes of Krug might just be his best and only option if he intended to survive. And there was Dawson to consider. Perhaps once the toads had retaken Genus, he could persuade them to let him keep Dawson as a reward. He felt tears well up in his gray eyes at that thought. What a selfish, cowardly idea. He wanted Dawson as his lover, not as his slave.

His mind turned to more immediate problems, like the blood test and how to beat it. It seemed impossible to beat. He'd need to be right there for the nurse to take his blood, wouldn't he? Suddenly, an idea came into his head and he sat up straighter, sniffling and drying his eyes. He remembered how Gilly had said the nurse was going to have to draw the blood of every single U.A.C. employee working in this building. Surely all those faces tended to run together.

It was a long shot, but it was the only idea he had currently. In order to set his forming plan into motion, he'd need to find out exactly how they were collecting and storing the blood. Which meant a trip to the nurse's station later.

In the meantime, he set the communicator aside and decided to concentrate on work, pulling the pile of unfinished papers over to himself. He spent the next several hours reading and signing them. Time always passed more quickly when had something to occupy himself, even something as tedious as paperwork.

By the time he was finally caught up on his work, he glanced at the digital clock on the wall and saw it was eight o'clock. Well past time for him to go home. He sighed happily, glad to have had his mind diverted for a few hours. Collecting the papers, he put them into his briefcase along with the toad communicator and snapped it shut.

He felt his stomach growl. He had forgotten about lunch and now it was getting on dinnertime. Figuring the nurse's station wasn't going anywhere, he produced a small key and used it to unlock the bottom drawer of his desk. From this he removed a large glass jar filled with crickets. A feeling of almost primal hunger came over him. He opened the jar and stuffed his whole fist inside, grabbing a handful of crickets. Screwing the lid back on so none of the other crickets would escape, Renfield proceeded to stuff the insects into his mouth and devour them. He chewed them noisily.

"Mmmmmmm," he intoned happily as he crunched his meal into a thick paste for easy digestion, "this is the one thing I don't miss about being a toad!"

Renfield didn't care he was talking with his mouth full. There was no one around to hear him. He swallowed and sighed happily.

"Time for dessert!"

He removed a second jar from the drawer, this one containing several large, green slugs. He drooled hungrily as he unscrewed the lid, letting it fall onto the desktop.

"Mmm," he moaned. "My favorite!"

One by one, Renfield plucked out fat, slimy slugs and popped them into his maw. He chewed them up, heedless of the slime dribbling from his lips. More of the slime coated his fingers, and he greedily sucked them clean before swallowing with a loud, liquid gulp. Licking his lips, Renfield leaned back in his chair and sighed happily. He definitely felt better now that he had a belly full of amphibian comfort food. He loosed a loud belch.

After relaxing for a few moments to let his stomach settle, he screwed the lid back on the jar of crickets and then returned both it and the cricket jar back into the drawer, which he closed and relocked securely, pocketing the key. Standing, he grabbed his briefcase. Time to go and investigate that nurse's station.

Exiting his office and making sure, as usual, to electronically lock the door using his ID card, Renfield headed off. He found the floor deserted except for a single custodian currently sweeping the floor with a big push broom. Giving this lone employee a curt nod, he went to the elevator and pressed the call button. He waited impatiently for the elevator.

"Workin' late?" the custodian asked, pausing in his work and leaning on the broom handle. He was a middle-aged porcupine.

"Oh, yeah," said Renfield, tapping his foot. "Are you taking the blood test tomorrow?" he probed.

"Sure am," answered the custodian, sounding annoyed. "Of course, I personally think it's stupid. I've been with the U.A.C. for ten years! You'd think they'd trust me."

Renfield smiled a little and allowed himself to jest with the porcupine a little. "Maybe they figure you aren't the real you," he suggested jokingly. "Maybe you got kidnapped and replaced with a toad lookalike, just like Bucky O'Hare."

"Ah!" grumbled the custodian, giving a dismissibe wave of his hand. He returned to his sweeping. "I'm no toad!" He paused and glanced slyly at Renfield, smirking, clearly in on the joke. "And if I was, I wouldn't tell you!"

He laughed and returned to work. Despite himself, Renfield allowed himself his own small chuckle. He said goodnight to the friendly custodian as the elevator finally arrived. He got aboard and took it down to the first floor where the nurse's station was. Stepping off, he found the lobby desserted except for the night guards. One, an elk, was standing by the door, a maser pistol tucked firmly into the holster on his belt, meaning business. The second guard, a rhino, was lounging boredly at the reception desk. He was equally armed. Neither of them took much notice of Renfield apart from a cursory glance.

"I'm off to do my rounds," said the elk. For a moment, Renfield thought he was talking to him, but then the second guard replied.

"Right," said the rhino, and got up. "I'm gonna hit the restroom."

Instead of proceeding to the front entrance, Renfield instead went off down one of several connecting hallways to a different part of the building, and eventually found himself in the employee medical center. There was nobody around. He tried the door. Locked. He swiped his ID card through the reader by the door and it buzzed, the little diode turning red.

"Access denied?" he wondered aloud.

How could that be? His card was level five. All-access. As part of Chairman Warner's personal staff he was allowed access to very nearly every part of the building. Only the Chairman and Vice-Chairman and maybe a few others had higher clearance than him, and certainly he was allowed in the medical center. Was his level five access just not on file yet? He'd only been promoted a few days ago.

He frowned. More likely, the access level had just been changed in preparation for the impending blood test, to prevent the toad spy from snooping. And considering he was the toad spy and he was snooping, Renfield wryly observed that they were right to take precautions.

This was terrible. If he couldn't see exactly what they had in there and how they planned to store the blood, he couldn't find out if his plan was in any way feasible. His shoulders slumping in defeat, he walked back out into the lobby and headed towards the door. As he grabbed the door handle he happened to look over at the reception desk and see that the rhino was gone. More importantly, his security guard's ID card was sitting right there on the desk! Renfield uttered a little choking cry of surprise and lunged for it.

He almost tripped as he remembered the second guard, and spun around, feeling caught already. But there was no sign of the elk, either. he stood there, panting as he took the situation in. The elk was off somewhere on his rouns. Where was the rhino? Of course! The bathroom! Renfield looked at the card. How long would its owner be in the bathroom? Did he dare steal it and use it to gain entrance into the nurse's center? Would it even work?

Desperation led him to his decision. He snatched up the card and then hurried back to the medical center. Skidding to a halt at the door, he held up the guard's card with a trembling hand and swiped it through the reader. It beeped and the light turned green. There was a soft click as the door unlocked. Renfield almost wept with joy.

He went inside and quietly shut the door after himself. He was in an ordinary doctor's examination room, if a dark one at the moment. Off to the left was another door. This one didn't have a card reader. The plaque on it read "Specimen Room." Smirking, he opened it, flicking on the light. Jackpot. There was a card with tubing, butterfly needles and on a nearby counter were racks and racks of currently empty vials with blank labels. Everything the nurse and whoever assisted her would need to draw blood. Renfield grabbed one of the vials and slid it into his jacket pocket, then turned off the light and shut the door.

After leaving and relocking the door, he tentatively went back into the lobby. If the guard was back, he'd keep the ID card and then drop it on the floor discretely when he returned to work tomorrow, so that the guard would think he'd just lost it. However, the rhino was still gone when Renfield returned. Thank goodness for long bathroom breaks, he thought, and dropped the card back on the desktop as he walked past it.

"Hey!" a voice shouted. The elk guard.

Wincing, Renfield turned and looked at the elk as he walked over. "Yes?" he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

The guard looked at Renfield's ID card attached to his lapel and his demeanor changed a little as he took notice of the level five access. When he spoke again, his tone was slightly more respectful but he remained authoritative.

"What were you doing with that?" he asked, pointing at the rhino's card on the desk. "I saw you put it there."

Renfield struggled to think of something. At what point had the elk walked in? Would the excuse forming in his mouth work?

"I, uh, noticed it on the floor," he said. "I picked it up and put it on the desk so your friend wouldn't lose it. He really ought to keep it on himself instead of leaving it lying around." He grinned.

The elk eyed him, but then smiled and nodded. He bought it. "All right," he said. "Thanks. Have a nice night."

Feeling jubilant, Renfield emerged into the cool night air of Genus and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Now, he knew, his plan could work. If the nurse had to take blood from literally everyone in the building, then she wouldn't remember taking any individual employee's blood. What if he never went, but put a vial of someone else's blood with his name on the label and simply slid it in amongst the others before they tested them? But one final matter remained. Whose blood would Renfield substitute for his own? 


	6. Calling Jimmy

Renfield returned to his midtown apartmen, which was within reasonable distance of his work. He closed and locked the door behind him, then undid his tie and breathed a deep sigh of relief. He was home at last. Be it ever so humble. Setting his briefcase to one side near the front door, he undid his tie and turned the lights on. The apartment was small but expensively decorated with mail order ultra-modern furniture and various electronics. Renfield's tastes ran towards the more modern and pricy. That much of him was very much still a toad.

He went through the living room past a large black leather sofa set in front of a big screen television and entertainment center with all the bells and whistles. His first stop as usual was his bedroom. Up a short slight of stairs was the small apartment's two-room second floor, consisting of a bedroom and bathroom. He entered the latter and slipped off his tie, tossing it aside and onto the large bed, which was built for more than one person.

Originally he'd owned a single-person bed but since he'd begun becoming more adventurous in his love life, he'd needed to buy a bed that could accomodate two individuals after a rather awkward night with his first guest. Now that he was aiming to go steady with Dawson, regardless of what came of the Krug situation, the bed's size was going to prove doubly valuable.

He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and removed the empty vial, which made him turn his mind from his past adventures in love and back to the matter at hand. Who to ask for assistance? Dawson? How would he even begin to approach the matter with him? Even if he could figure out a way of requesting Dawson's blood without admitting he was a toad, Dawson knew about the blood tests. He might suspect Renfield of trying to use the blood sample to beat it. And that would lead to questions which Renfield wasn't prepared to answer. Not yet, anyway.

He tossed the vial up in the air and caught it in his hand as it came back down. He repeated this move, following the little glass tube's arc through the air with his dull gray eyes as his mind raced. As it came back down, he took notice of the bed once again and thought of Jimmy. The vial landed in his palm once more and his thin fingers closed around it and he grinned. Of course. Jimmy.

His most frequent bedmate, Jimmy was a young male hare who Renfield had met through a co-worker at the office. He'd made certain inquiries about where a hare with his particular tastes could find a little action on Genus, and his friend had directed him to a male escort service of sorts. Very discrete. At the time, Renfield had not known about Genus' open gay subculture and night life. Coming as he did from the Toad Homeworld where breeding was of the utmost importance, he'd been cautious and secretive about his sexuality as a matter of habit upon first joining the ranks of the mammals.

Initially he'd simply tried just going without sex. That had worked for a while on Warren. But certain drives couldn't be ignored entirely, and soon Renfield had begun to crave the company of another. Jimmy from the escort service had served this purpose wonderfully. Now that he'd met and fallen so hard for Dawson Mackenzie, though, Renfield was afraid he was going to have to say goodbye to Jimmy. But he had one final use for him.

Removing his jacket and tossing it onto the bed on top of his discarded tie, Renfield went into the bathroom and put the vial in the cabinet underneath the sink, then went back downstairs and picked up the phone, dialing the number Jimmy had given him after this first night together. It rang for a few moments.

Finally, he heard someone pick up. "Hello?" said a husky-sounding voice. Jimmy.

"Jimmy, long time no see, pal," Renfield said cheerily.

"Oh, hi, Renfield," Jimmy replied, a bit less cheerful. The young hare had a bit of a melancholy attitude that Renfield didn't like. He was good at making his clientele happy overall, but his personality and conversational skills left a lot to be desired. "What's up?"

"Oh, was wondering if you could maybe swing by later tonight," Renfield said. Thinking he heard another voice in the background, he hastily added, "Or, uh, tomorrow sometime, if you're busy tonight."

"Gonna have to be tomorrow," said Jimmy, and this time Renfield distinctly heard another voice. "I'm kinda busy."

Renfield allowed himself a small smirk. Apparently, he'd caught Jimmy in the middle of a session with another one of his customers. "That's fine," he said. "No rush. You're always worth the wait. How does tomorrow afternoon sound?"

There was a pause and the sound of vague movement. "Fine," said Jimmy. "Got to go, sweetie. See you then." Renfield heard a soft little groan and then the line went dead.

He hung up and chuckled, trying to imagine who it was Jimmy was currently "entertaining." Someone he knew? Chairman Warner? Perhaps even Bucky O'Hare himself? Anything was possible. Even in an open and tolerant society such as the one the mammals had, there was still an image to maintain, and it amused Renfield greatly to think that O'Hare was secretly gay. Not the least because he quite liked him and even admired him in spite of the fact he was secretly working against him and everything he stood for.

That thought depressed him. How his mind kept returning to the cold reality of his conflicting, incompatible loyalties! He grasped at his temples and growled, loosing a soft cry of anger before stomping into the kitchen. He grabbed a smoothie made from blended slugs and maggots from the fridge. He kept such drinks and snacks unhidden in there. When asked, he'd replied that they were health drinks. He had separate food and drink for the few visitors he got.

Returning to the living room, he collapsed into the big, comfy sofa and considered watching a movie on TV, then decided against it. As much as he wanted to take his mind off his current predicament, he found he preferred the empty silence of the apartment for the moment. It gave him time to reflect, as he often did. Not on his current problem, but further into the past. 


	7. Renfield Remembers

As he brought the glass to his lips and sipped the cold, slimy liquid, he allowed his mind to travel back in time. Not for the first time, he remembered and reflected on how he had come to be in his current situation.

In life, everyone makes decisions they regret. Zaysen knew this. He floated naked in a large metallic cylinder filled with nurient-rich liquids in the underground laboratory surrounded by scientists in white lab coats, nervous but resigned to his fate. He was on the cusp of middle age but still handsome and fit. Unlike many male toads he had hair. It was light brown, cut short and parted down the middle so that it hung straight over either side of his head. The rest of him was fairly unremarkable. He was a good-looking but average toad.

Soon this would change.

This laboratory was where the procedure would be performed. The scientists were measuring his vital scenes for the last time before his immersion, and he thought back to two weeks ago when he had first learned of the species-reassignment program.

He was a popular if not exactly award-winning actor who had once portrayed the lead character in the James Pond film series. He was quite suave in the role and did his own stunts, which had earned him many female fans. And, to his delight, many male ones as well. The toad was of that persuasion. Many a male admirer had spent a night or two with the actor, but he had yet to go steady with anyone. And after today he doubted he ever would.

Eventually he'd left the series to play the role of the eyepatch-wearing hunky doctor in the hit soap opera The Bold and the Warty, again to great acclaim. It was during his stint on the show that agents from Toad Intelligence had picked him up on orders from the Toad Air Marshal. Without being told much he'd been taken away from the Homeworld to a plane called Punk. It was a backwater world whose economy revolved almost entirely around gambling. What he didn't know until then, though, was that there was a top-secret research lab located beneath the Pond Palace, one of the most popular casinos.

It was here that Zaysen met the Air Marshal in person for the first time, along with Toadborg. The Air Marshal was a swaggering blowhard and Zaysen didn't like him. Toadborg was downright terrifying, and the actor liked him even less. But as a faithful toad citizen he was obliged to hear them out, so he did.

Spying on the mammals was becoming increasingly difficult, Toadborg explained, sounding very much like an exasperated adult, carefully choosing each word as if he were speaking to a mentally challenged tadpole. Zaysen assumed Toadborg spoke this way to most other toads anyway and didn't feel too offended. Masks on toad agents, the cyborg said, failed. They were too easy to remove and reveal the wearer's true identity. Robots were too unreliable as well. Too rigid in their programming. The toad roboticists had yet to reach the level of Dr. Wallace. And paid mammal traitors were out of the questions. Their loyalties, Toadborg opined, were to themselves or to simoleans.

A new approach was needed. Hence the species-reassignment program. The idea had been Toadborg's of course. Zaysen listened with growing interest as the cyborg explained that while the toads' robotics technology was behind that of the mammals, their bio-science division was lightyears ahead. Using a combination of plastic surgery, gene therapy and DNA manipulation, the toad scientists could change the outward species of an individual.

"And let me guess," Zaysen had said, "you want me to volunteer for this project?"

"Precisely," said the Air Marshal, although the short toad's grin told Zaysen that there wasn't actually much volunteering going on. Nevertheless, he had attempted to politely refuse.

"I'm afraid I'll need to decline the, uh, generous offer. I have my career to think of."

Toadborg became insistent. Most insistent. "At the moment it is only a request." His red eyes glowed. "Don't force me to make it an order."

Quickly realizing he had little choice in the matter, and fearing what would befall him if he refused now that he knew of the program, the actor finally agreed.

And with that he was signed up for the program. Toadborg took his leave then. He had more important things to do, and, despite the program being his idea, he didn't seem to have too much faith in its success.

The Air Marshal remained and took Zaysen down into the laboratory, which was built inside of a massive natural cavern located underneath the Pond Palace casino. It was here that the toad met the scientist in charge, a certain Professor Glutgrave. Glutgrave was a wiry older toad with thinning gray hair and large eyes - even for a toad. He spoke in a stilted, halting manner that grated on Zaysen nerves.

But if Zaysen disliked Toadborg and the Air Marshal... he disliked Glutgrave even more. His hatred for the other two was based on them being arrogant and condescending. Professor Glutgrave was arrogant, condescending and insane as well. The first time he laid eyes on the Professor, he was experimenting on another unfortunate toad who'd volunteered for the project. The gene therapy didn't take, and the toad had awakened inside of his nutrient bath prematurely.

When Professor Glutgrave's team removed the volunteer from within the cylinder, he was horribly deformed. Half toad, half mammal, and in a great deal of pain, thrashing madly and screaming. The actor hid behind the Air Marshal - or at least as much as he could - and watched as an annoyed Glutgrave coldly shot the deformed toad through the head with a maser pistol he retrieved from a drawer. Dismissively declaring the dead toad "another failure," he then had two assistants drag the lifeless form over to a pool of dark liquid, into which the body was dropped. It sank under with a sizzling, slimy gurgle. Some kind of disposal unit, Zaysen concluded.

That was when Glutgrave spotted him and a sick smile spread over the scientist's lips. Fresh meat. The Air Marshal stepped aside and told Zaysen to obey the Professor, no matter what. For the first time in his life the toad was truly terrified. Was led to an examination table, and made to strip nude while the scientists examined him. He felt quite violated having them coldly touching him like he was some lab specimen - which, he reminded himself, he now was.

Glutgrave got a little too personal in his examinations, touching the toad's face and feeling his skull beneath his skin, declaring him to have "excellent bone structure." Zaysen was beginning to become afraid that the Professor might wish to perform more intimate examinations of other parts of his body, but fortunately one cursory glance made Professor Glutgrave declare that to be in order, and with that, the initial exam was finished. Glutgrave explained to the waiting Air Marshal that this toad would do nicely. Satisfied, the Air Marshal bid the new volunteer farewell and departed.

After the Air Marshal was gone the scientists allowed Zaysen to dress, but only in a pair of tightfitting boxer shorts of a material he was unfamiliar with. His original clothing was taken away and he never saw it again. He was then taken to a sealed, sterile bedroom with a toilet and walk-in shower, and locked inside. Through a speaker built into the door, he was told by Professor Glutgrave to sleep. That had been the first day. He subsequently spent a week inside this room, watched carefully by the scientists. He slept little and ate heartily and was a nervous wreck he entire time.

On the first day of the second week he was let out and brought to a large operating table. His underwear was removed and he was made to lie down on the table. Metallic bands clamped into place at his neck, wrists and ankles, holding him firmly in place, and Glutgrave and two other scientists approached. After Zaysen was pumped full of painkillers which left him in a state of semi-consciousness the scientists began their work. In-between anesthesia-induced blackouts the toad saw glimpses of glinting scalpels and bloodied surgical gloves and overheard the scientists discussing things. In particular, he himself was referred to as "Phase One-Point-Two."

He did not know how long this procedure went on, or what exactly was done. His drug-addled mind didn't even allow him to venture a guess. By the time it was finally over, he was not bandaged and sent back to the sealed room. Instead the bindings were released and the doped-up toad was carried by two assistants to one of the open cylinders, tilted horizontally. He was lain inside, and wires, tubes and electrodes were hooked up to his head, chest and arms. Professor Glutgrave himself slid a breathing mask over his mouth. Then they stood back and the lid slammed over him, plunging him into near darkness.

Some light filtered in through a tinted observation window placed at head level. He felt something wet beginning to fill the space within, and fell completely unconsciousness.

He awoke he knew not how much later. He was floating. The interior of the cylinder was filled with a dark, warm liquid, and it was now standing upright. Air was provided by the mask over his mouth. He moved weakly, feeling every tube and wire snaking into him, and the dull pain from the surgical procedure numbly aching throughout his body. Through the window in front of him he observed the scientists. Some had clipboards and were taking notes as they looked in at him. Others were monitoring various machines.

Without, Zaysen saw a familiar face. It was his co-star Drollard from The Bold and the Warty! Had he volunteered for the program as well? The other actor was conversing with Professor Glutgrave but he couldn't hear what they were saying. Soon the numb pain became more acute and he decided he wanted to sleep again. His eyes slid shut and he knew no more.

So it went for what seemed like ages. He would awake groggily and passively observe the activity going on outside of his cylinder, before going to sleep again. Throughout it all, he could feel himself... changing. He could feel something growing from the top of his head, and his mouth and rear end felt funny. His skin became itchy and even though he looked down, in the dim light he could only barely make out his own body in the thick liquid, and saw no details.

There wasn't enough space inside the cylinder for him to use his hands to explore himself to try and find out just what was happening to him, even though he had a good idea. They didn't call it the species-reassignment program for nothing. Occasionally Glutgrave himself would come right up to the window and press his face against the plexiglass, leering inside at his experiment in a manner that always made Zaysen have nightmares as he slept.

Finally the day came. They opened the cylinder. Not at first, though. First, Professor Glutgrave spoke to him using a comlink built into the cylinder's interior.

"Can you hear me?" The Professor's voice sounded oddly louder.

Zaysen nodded yes.

"Do you understand what is being said to you?"

A strange question, especially given he'd already answered Glutgrave's very clear question requiring a yes or no answer. He nodded anyway.

This pleased the Professor who ordered the fluid drained. Soon Zaysen found himself standing woozily inside the vertical cylinder, and with a hissing sound, the door swung open, revealing all of the scientists standing there expectantly. Behind them, on a large viewscreen, was the Toad Air Marshal, observing things from somewhere else. Either the Homeworld or a mothership.

Gingerly he reached up with a trembling hand and pulled the oxygen mask off, and attempted to step forward. A couple of lab assistants had to come and unhook all of the tubes and wires from his body before he was finally able to emerge from the cylinder and stand, naked and dripping wet, before the assembled toad scientists.

Professor Glutgrave was enthusing over his "handiwork," as he called it, explaining the results to the Air Marshal's screen, triumphantly calling the damp, confused Zaysen the Aniverse's first toad-mammal hybrid. At that, the actor's groggy mind began to clear somewhat, and he looked down at his hands, to discover they, and his arms, were covered in short light green fur!

He recoiled in shock, bumping up against the open cylinder. He ran his hands over himself. Fur everywhere! And it itched! As he was running his fingers over his face he felt a short muzzle with protruding buck teeth, and further up, growing from the top of his head admist his matted hair, were a pair of large rabbit ears. As he felt over the large front teeth with his fingertips he became aware of the sensation of having a tail. Glancing back over his shoulder, he did indeed discover a teardrop shaped tail growing out just above his backside.

He was a mammal. A hare. He felt ill. He shouldn't have been surprised. What had happened to him had been explained in some detail before the process had even begun, but it was still a shock to actually now possess these things. As he stood there shivering one of the assistants, a big, brawny toad with blonde hair, came forward and draped a spare lab coat over his shoulder and led him away. Glutgrave was still talking to the Air Marshal, who was praising the Professor on his excellent progress.

The muscular assistant gently led the toad-turned-hare back to the room where he'd spent his first week, and it was there that he was left. This time there was a change of fresh clothes for him, which he avoided putting on for the moment. He simply sat on the end of the bed with the lab coat clutched about his nakedness, shivering. After a while his grogginess and confusion wore off, and he stood, taking stock of his situation. He noticed for the first time there was a full-length mirror in the room, and approached it.

The reflection of a pale green hare with short, brown hair and watery gray eyes stared back at him. He frowned. So, he was a mammal now. Oh, well. At least he got to keep his original hair. A sudden curiosity overtook him and he looked down, to see if everything had changed. It had. For a moment he was overcome with sorrow and wept, shuddering so badly he had to go lay down. He cried himself to sleep, and dozed fitfully for a few hours, before an assistant came in and woke him, telling him to dress himself.

He put the clothes on - underwear, pajama style pants and a loosefitting shirt - and followed the assistant back out into the main lab, to stand before the viewscreen. Instead of the Air Marshal, it not displayed the digitized visage of the Lord and Master, Komplex. The Lord looked his transformed subject over and deemed him a worthy accomplishment for Professor Glutgrave.

"He is most impressive, Professor," said the Master. "Your hard work has paid off at last."

"Thank you, Komplex," said Glutgrave, executing a low bow.

The Lord's gaze shifted slightly to Zaysen, and he surprised him by asking, "How do you feel?"

The former toad was unsure how to answer. He felt sick, but lied. "I feel fine, Komplex." He grinned uncertainly. He never knew if Komplex believed him or not.

"You are doing a great service to the supreme toad race by making this sacrifice," said Komplex. "You will be the first of many such spies."

Then Komplex spoke with the Professor for a few minutes and the screen went blank. The first and last time that Zaysen would ever speak personally to his Lord and Master had ended. He was now completely in the hands of Glutgrave and his staff.

The actor was given a few weeks to recover from the procedure and eventually he felt completely healed and healthy. Training followed. He was assigned a new identity, "Renfield Billings." A nonentity, he'd been assured. To date he was not sure if this was true or if Renfield Billings had been someone who actually existed. But what mattered now was that he was Renfield and not Zaysen anymore.

For the next month he trained himself to react only to his new name being spoken and not his old one, studying mammal habits and learning their culture so he could properly act the part. The one thing he was never able to do was eat their food. The transformation process did not alter Renfield's digestive tract; mammal food such as fruits and vegetables made him terribly ill. He could still only eat insects and other natural toad cuisine. A serious flaw, but one Renfield was certain he could overcome.

After his month of training was finished, and he acted fully like a hare, Renfield was told by Professor Glutgrave of his mission. A second genetically altered toad spy, the other actor Renfield had seen, was currently "cooking." He was soon to emerge from his cylinder as a precise duplicate of the Toad Empire's sworn enemy, Captain Bucky O'Hare. Renfield was going to pave the way for this "false O'Hare" to gain entry to Genus so as to assassinate the U.A.C. chairman, a bloodhound named Dogstar.

In the meantime, under his new name, Renfield was going to be placed in the slave population of a toad mining camp, the location of which would then be leaked to the U.A.C. so that it could be raided. Once "rescued," Renfield was to claim he was a hare from the destroyed town of Burrow Heights on Warren, and sign up with the U.A.C. as a volunteer staffer, and, from there, work his way up the U.A.C. chain of command until he was in place to smuggle the false O'Hare onto Genus. Until then, Glutgrave explained, he would have access to all sorts of valuable U.A.C. information which he could ferret to his toad masters.

All of which suited Renfield just fine, but he did have one question.

"Can you reverse what's been done to me after my mission is over?" he asked uncertainly.

Professor Glutgrave hesitated just the slightest before asnwering. "Of course," he said, sounding as though he were offended Renfield had even dared suggest he couldn't reverse the process. "The procedure can in fact be undone. Komplex has told me that your reward for your service as a spy will be getting your old face back. Isn't that nice?"

This overjoyed Renfield, and made his current state more bearable. Soon, he said goodbye to Professor Glutgrave and that infernal laboratory, never wanting to see it again until he absolutely had to. As he boarded the toad transport ship his mind was filled with possibilities. What would living among the mammals as one of them be like? He decided he wouldn't know until he got there...

Renfield awoke with a start, nearly spilling the glass of slug and maggot juice. He grumbled and realized he'd fallen asleep. He sighed and set the glass aside on a table and rose, stretching. He headed upstairs and fell into bed without taking his clothes off or even removing his shoes, and fell into a deep, restless sleep, dreaming fitfully of Dawson, Jimmy, Stephenson, Bucky, Toadborg, laboratories, spies and intrigue. 


	8. The Ol' Blood Sample Switcheroo

"You want what...?" Jimmy asked incredulously. He sat on the sofa.

"A sample of your blood," Renfield Billings replied matter-of-factly, seated leaning forward in the armchair across from his "guest." He'd known the hare would find the request unusual, to say the least, and so he was prepared for Jimmy's uneasiness and doubts.

They were standing in Renfield's living room the following morning. Jimmy was a young, handsome hare with a gold earring in his left ear and green fur - a much richer shade than Renfield's sickly own. Spiky brown hair adorned the top of his head. He wore surprisingly tattered-looking clothing despite the amount of money he made turning tricks. Renfield had never asked about it, but he figured it was so people wouldn't mug him on the street. The big cities of Genus could sometimes be a little dangerous, after all. It wasn't quite the paradise the mammals made it out to be. Someone dressed like Jimmy - a tattered jacket, ripped jeans and hand-me-down hi-tops - wasn't likely to be looked at as a potential target for muggers.

He was, however, very popular with mammals who wanted him for... other duties. Duties which he performed frequently for Renfield. Although now that Dawson was in his life, however that turned out given his role in undermining the mammalian war effort, he decided he'd need to stop seeing Jimmy. But the young hare was a nice enough sort that Renfield would hate to simply end it. No, he thought. He'd cut it off gradually. Especially since now he needed Jimmy more than ever. His blood, anyway. His continued freedom depended on it!

He could tell Jimmy was uneasy about this particular job. He fidgeted in his seat, so Renfield rushed in. "I'll give five-thousand simoleans."

"I dunno. It sounds pretty weird. Whaddaya want it for?"

"I... can't tell you that," Renfield said. The less he knew, the better. He neither wanted Jimmy arrested as a traitor by the mammals, or killed by his fellow toads as a potential security risk.

Jimmy played with his earring. "Jeez, man... that's a lotta money for one thing of blood."

"Not just one," Renfield replied, "but as many as I'll require in the future if the need arises."

Jimmy laughed. "You're trying to beat some kinda drug test at work, aren't you?" he asked slyly.

Renfield would neither confirm nor deny this. Instead, he rose and came over, easing himself down beside Jimmy. He slid one arm around the hare's shoulders and brought his face closer, so their lips were barely touching. He stroked up and down Jimmy's arm tenderly, trying to be seductive and reassuring.

"Please," he asked sweetly. "You've always told me I was your favorite customer..."

"I tell everyone that," Jimmy admitted, wryly but softly, barely whispering. He then smiled, and brought his lips to Renfield's, and the two kissed gently. After a moment, they parted, and Jimmy said, "Fine, I'll do it. But not for five. Ten."

Renfield reeled. "Ten-thousand simoleans?! I pay you less for one night stands!"

He stood, indignant, putting his hands on his hips. Jimmy laughed.

"Yeah, but this is somethin' shifty. And shifty costs extra."

The toad-turned-hare sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd forgotten how much of a haggler Jimmy could be. But it wasn't like he was hard up for money. The U.A.C. paid decently enough, and his toad masters had also ensured he hadn't lacked for money. Finally he agreed.

"Fine!" he said sourly. "I'll have the money to you after you've given me-"

"Half now, half on delivery," the younger hare replied, then got off of the couch and kneeled before his host. He started unzipping Renfield's pants. "With this as a bonus. Deal?"

Renfield gawked. Then Jimmy started doing things to him with his mouth that sent shivers up his spine, and he once again agreed to Jimmy's terms. "F-Fine... deal, you little extortionist..."

Ten minutes of mind-numbing pleasure later and Renfield, fly still undone, fell back onto the sofa and gave a contented sigh. After a moment, he paid the extremely talented hare his simoleans and fished the vial with the empty label he'd stolen from the infirmary and handed it to Jimmy, who was wiping his mouth with an embroidered handkerchief.

"Put it in this," he said a little breathlessly, "and for goodness' sake don't write anything on the label!"

"Fine, fine," said Jimmy, swiping the little glass container from Renfield's hand. "And, uh, consider that little slice of heaven you just had there a freebie." He winked.

Pocketing both handkerchief and vial, he gave Renfield a goodbye kiss on the cheek and left. Renfield swallowed and relaxed, then eased himself back inside his underwear and zipped up his pants. By the Great Mother, he though, Jimmy sure knew how to-

He stopped his thoughts in his tracks. Did he just invoke the Great Mother and not Komplex? He chuckled. He really was playing at being a hare too long. He rose and stretched, then decided he'd better head into work. He'd dodge the blood tests for as long as he could, until Jimmy got back to him with the sample he needed to fool the mammalian scientists. Until then, it was important that he continued acting like nothing was amiss.

That week was a blur of paperwork, dances with Dawson at the Briar Patch and dinner afterward, and the dull tedium of bureaucracy. Occasionally, he'd notice Gilly Stephenson looking at him oddly. He was beginning to worry that he suspected him, but continued playing it cool. He didn't care what his grouchy co-worker suspected or didn't suspect - he couldn't prove anything, and he kept everything in his office and his apartment which might incriminate him under tight lock and key. Careful was Renfield's middle name.

Every once in a while, he contemplated the the communicator he used to maintain contact with Sergeant Krug's toad cell. It'd stopped beeping insistently at him and he wondered why, and whether he'd even answer it if it did. Had Krug decided to cut his ties with him? Part of him hoped not, because if things didn't pan out the way he hoped, he might need Krug as a safety net.

But he was optimistic. After this whole "hunt for the evil toad spy" thing blew over, he was prepared to settle into his new life as a hardworking U.A.C. employee with a wonderful boyfriend, with no one the wiser that he'd once been a toad actor named Zaysen.

At the end of the week, he went to meet Jimmy in an old subway station in one of the grungier parts of town. It'd been badly damaged during the toad occupation, and although there were signs of recent construction work such as partial repairs and tools, there weren't any crews here currently and this end of the rail line was shut down. A perfect place to meet someone for some cloak and dagger style dealings. He certainly didn't want to do the actual handover at his apartment. Or his office.

He waited for a few minutes with his hands in his pockets. Just as he was beginning to get impatient, Jimmy emerged from the shadows and approached him a little nervously, hands stuffed into the pockets of his tattered jacet.

"Dunno why you wanted to do it here," he said.

"My apartment isn't safe for this kind of transaction," Renfield replied, taking his left hand out of its pocket. "Neither is my office. It's one thing if someone catches me enjoying the company of another male... quite another if I'm caught purchasing a sample of his blood. Now then, do you have what I asked you for?"

"Yeah, no problem," replied Jimmy. "I still think it's a weird thing to be askin' for..."

"Save it, Jimmy," Renfield said with a sigh, holing out his hand. He was becoming impatient with the prostitute's increasing unease. "Now, do you have it?"

Jimmy frowned and fished the vial with the blank label out of his jacket pocket. It was filled with red blood. Renfield's gray eyes lit up as the green hare slid it into his hand.

"Have you got my simoleans?" asked Jimmy.

"Right here."

Renfield realized that a more pragmatic toad would pull a maser pistol from his pocket and not a fistful of simoleans, and shoot Jimmy dead on the spot. No loose ends. But Renfield had always had a soft heart, especially for guys he fancied. Besides, he didn't like the idea of murdering anyone, especially when he didn't need to. After this, he wasn't going to see Jimmy anymore. Not when he had lovely Dawson. And so it was a fistful of money he offered to the male prostitute, and it was gladly accepted.

"Thanks," Jimmy said.

"No," said Renfield, "thank you! I owe you big time."

"Why not repay me right now?" the young hare asked slyly, grabbing Renfield's wrist and stuffing it down the front of his jeans.

Renfield pulled his hand back in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "Uh, not right now. Maybe later. Right now, I've got to get back before I'm missed."

A small lie. He didn't want to hurt Jimmy's feelings. He patted his shoulder firmly, then turned and walked away and out of Jimmy's life forever.

Later that evening, Renfield returned to the employee clinic. His co-worker Vernita Lapis was getting her blood drawn by the nurse, a deer who looked tired and overworked, just as he'd hoped. He could slip in and put Jimmy's blood in with the rest of the labeled samples and pass it off as his own, and the overworked nurse could never say for certain whether she'd drawn his blood or not.

As he entered and casually slipped past the preoccupied pair, he heard Vernita complain, "Is this really necessary?"

"Chairman's orders," was the nurse's reply. Her only reply.

Renfield entered the adjacent specimen room where the blood samples were stored. Removing the little vial from his pocket, he grabbed a pen and wrote "Billings, Renfield" on the label, then slid the vial into a rack with the other, identical ones. Presto, he thought with a grin, and then discretely departed just as the nurse was finishing up with Vernita.

He returned to his office upstairs and shut his door behind him, making certain to lock it. He took the toad communicator out of his pocket and put it on his desk, just in case, but it remained inert and silent. Apparently Krug really had given up on trying to get in touch with him. Oh well. To hell with him and the other toads. Now that he was on his way to being able to maintain his cover successfully, he was done dealing with those brutish bullies anyway.

Sitting back in his chair, he loosened his necktie and thought of Dawson. He very much looked forward to their upcoming dinner date.


End file.
